Hannah’s Beau (16 page)

Hannah, still linked with Mavis, waited for Beau to pass them and then lead their group down the street. He walked at a clipped, angry pace. Compelled, she released Mavis’s arm and trotted to catch up with him.

“I only have one thing to say to you,” she said.

He looked at her. Fury, anger and sadness shimmered in his gaze. She had a sudden urge to hug away his pain.

Instead, she said, “Amelia didn’t deserve you.”

His expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened with an emotion she couldn’t quite define. “Thank you,” he said.

And with those two simple words, her future turned a little clearer.

Beau wasn’t a man who liked being wrong. It went against his nature. Yet, he had been wrong on so many points.

Tyler, of all people, had been right.

For years, Beau had thought he’d wanted what Jim and Amelia had. But he’d forgotten about the Rocky Mountain Association’s required covenant for all its member churches. The covenant stated that known sinners were not allowed inside the building without having publicly confessed their sins in front of the congregation the week before.

Although the covenant was designed to prevent its members from living in unapologetic sin, it also made it impossible for a pastor to shepherd those in his flock still questioning their salvation. Certainly, none of the people Beau had ministered to in the last five years would be allowed to enter his church in Greeley.

He would not be allowed to minister to women like Jane Goodwin on their deathbed, for fear their sin would rub off on others. There were so many other restrictions, as well.

Too many.

Tyler had claimed that Beau would die a slow death in a church like Jim’s.

Tyler had been spot-on with his assessment.

But Beau didn’t want to keep traveling forever. There had to be a way to reconcile his dream of a stable church home with his unique calling to the lost.

There is, Beau. Look deeper in your heart. The answer is there.

Still confused, Beau shook his head. He knew God guided his life. Nothing happened to him by chance. Perhaps this upcoming journey to Reverend Southerland’s home would reveal the answers he sought. Perhaps this bump in the road had been part of God’s plan all along. Perhaps Beau needed to listen to God more, and talk less.

On more matters than starting his own church.

As he sat on a bench outside the train station, Beau watched Hannah’s gentle treatment of Mavis. The older woman was still sad and hurt over Amelia’s abominable treatment of her. No wonder. Amelia had claimed to see inside Mavis’s heart.

Beau had done the same with Hannah.

The dangerous combination of impulse, pride and temper had colored his initial judgment of her. He was no better than the very people he criticized.

“Don’t let that nasty young woman get to you,” Hannah said, her soft voice cutting across his thoughts. “She was
wrong
to say those things about you.”

“She spoke the truth.” Mavis’s eyes filled with tears of shame. The kind of shame the enemy used to keep God’s children separated from Him. “I am a former prostitute with sins a mile long that can never be taken back.”

Beau moved closer, prepared to boldly speak of God’s love, but Hannah continued. “No, Mavis. Your sins are in the past. You’re a godly woman now.”

A lone tear rolled down Mavis’s cheek.

Hannah gripped one of the older woman’s hands.

“What I did is the worst sin of them all,” Mavis said.

Beau had heard a similar argument from Jane. No longer able to keep silent, he said, “There’s no hierarchy of sin in God’s eyes. Sin is sin. But God can
and
does forgive all. You just have to ask for His forgiveness.”

Beau took Mavis’s other hand and nodded for Hannah to continue.

She gave him a grateful smile. “You are a beautiful, kindhearted woman, my friend. The children of Charity House love you. And we all know children are excellent judges of character.”

Mavis gave them both a watery smile. “Don’t forget small animals. I have a way with them small animals, too.”

Hannah laughed. “There you go.”

“You’re a good girl, Hannah Southerland.”

“Yes,” Beau agreed. “Yes, she is.”

He shared a look with Hannah before he released Mavis’s hand and the two women hugged. He couldn’t believe he’d once considered Amelia his ideal image of a wife, while he’d considered this beautiful, softhearted actress inappropriate in all ways.

Forgive me, Lord.

Boot heels clicked in rapid succession along the platform. “Sorry I’m late. I got detained at the jail.” Logan deposited the last of the luggage on the platform. “I’ve received an urgent telegraph from Marshal Scott. I have to pick up a prisoner in Laramie and escort him
back to Denver for trial. I’ve already hired a horse for my journey.”

The way Logan refused to make eye contact with him alerted Beau that trouble brewed.

Taking Logan by the arm, he led the young deputy out of earshot of the women. “Did you truly get a telegraph from Marshal Scott?”

Clearly offended, Logan glared at him. But instead of responding, he yanked a piece of paper from the inner pocket of his jacket and shoved it under Beau’s nose.

“That’s not what I meant.” Beau lowered the man’s hand by applying pressure to his wrist. “Are you using this as an excuse to go back to that church and defend Mavis before you head out of town?”

Logan made a noncommittal grunt that could have meant either yes or no.

Beau pressed for an answer. “I want a firm response out of you.”

Logan’s gaze darted all around, bounced off Mavis then back to the platform. “Maybe.”

“Don’t do it, Logan. Violence won’t solve anything.”

“It couldn’t hurt to try.”

Beau blew out a slow breath. “You know that’s not true. You’re not thinking rationally. Now, give me your word you won’t do something stupid. Stupid, as in defending Mavis’s honor with a fist to Reverend Smith’s face.”

“And here I thought that oily pastor needed a little rearranging of those pretty, girlish features.”

“I’m picking up the sarcasm.”

“Gee, truly?”

Beau felt a line of annoyance carve its way into his forehead. “I want your word you’re finished with Smith.”

Logan scowled. “You’re as relentless as Marc Dupree. Especially when you know a well-placed right hook would give you just as much satisfaction as it would me.”

Beau looked away, just for a moment, so Logan wouldn’t see his amusement and consider it silent agreement. “I won’t condone violence.”

“Fine.” Logan gave him a frustrated sigh. “I won’t go back to the church before I head out of town.”

“And?”

“And.” Logan grinned in a wolfish, arrogant pull of lips over teeth. “I won’t hit the pastor so hard in his nose it’ll mess up his pretty face forever.”

Beau rubbed a hand down his face. “Can I trust you’re a man of your word?”

Logan snorted at him. “I said I wouldn’t go back, and I won’t. But, you gotta admit, it’s certainly a tempting idea—”

“Logan.”

Logan held up his hand. “You have my word.”

Beau finally allowed the smile tugging at his lips free rein. “That’s enough for me.”

“Can I go tell Mavis and Miss Southerland goodbye now, or do you need to yell at me some more?”

Beau waved him off with a flick of his wrist. “Go on. Say your farewells.”

Logan swung around, stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “For the record, you handled that pastor and his wife real well. You’re a far better man than I am.”

Beau had his doubts. Serious doubts. After all, now that Logan had given him the idea, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t head back to the church himself and—how did the lawman put it?—rearrange Reverend Smith’s pretty face.

Apparently, Beau needed to work on a few of his anger issues. But at the moment, he had other matters on his mind. Matters concerning his future.

Tyler had planted a seed. So had Marc Dupree.

Jim and Amelia, unbeknownst to them, had watered them both.

Now, with the Lord’s help, Beau needed to figure out the particulars.

T
he train ride to Colorado Springs had gone far too quickly, Hannah thought as she stood on the platform of the train depot just outside town. Five years. Five full years had passed since she’d left home. Nothing had changed.

Everything had changed.

She
had changed.

The early-morning air slapped her in the nose and stung her throat. Pike’s Peak, purple in color under the soft dawn light, rose high above the land, lifting its mighty face past the clouds as if to say
I’m larger than the earth can handle.

The welcoming smell of fresh pine filled her nostrils.

She had returned.

But was she home?

Time would tell.

One thing was certain: Hannah had matured in the last five years. She was twenty-six years old, a fully grown woman with a large amount of money saved. Would it make a difference? Would she be strong enough to face her father as the confident woman she’d
become? Or would she fall back into old patterns and turn into the surly, arrogant, young girl with a boulder-size chip on her shoulder?

Reviewing the past with an adult perspective, she now understood her father’s disapproval of her. She’d been a willful child. Hard to handle. But, in her defense, she’d been missing her mother. And with her father choosing to favor Rachel, Hannah had felt abandoned.

Well, she was here now. Prepared to the reveal the truth and ask for her father’s forgiveness.

The rest would be up to him.

Glancing around, she wondered why he wasn’t at the depot. She’d sent a telegraph ahead to warn him of her impending arrival. That small courtesy had been Beau’s suggestion, one Hannah had initially fought. She’d relented because she’d known he’d been right.

As usual.

She looked over at him standing next to Mavis, who was guarding their baggage as though she expected some miscreant to steal their valuables. Hannah could only smile at the silly, adorable picture the old woman made sitting perched on top of the pile of bags. Laced up in Hannah’s fancy boots, Mavis’s feet dangled near the ground without quite reaching the wooden platform.

Hannah’s heart clenched. Mavis was a grown woman, nearing the end of her life, with a childlike joy for living. Hannah loved the old dear as if she’d been her own grandmother.

Beau shifted his stance, drawing Hannah’s attention back to him. She worried for him, more than she probably should. He’d been quiet on the journey from Wyoming to Colorado. Was he mourning the loss of Amelia?

Why did that thought steal her breath?

He turned slightly to consider the mountains. She took the opportunity to study him. She cataloged his handsome features, one by one, starting with the aristocratic sweep of his nose that was so much like his mother’s. And the strong jawline that came straight from his father and proclaimed his O’Toole heritage.

Her heart stumbled at the sight of all that masculine strength of character. For a brief moment she couldn’t gulp in enough air. She couldn’t think. It was just a moment, but her world tilted, her head grew light and she knew. Oh, she knew.

She loved him.

She loved Beauregard O’Toole.

But instead of bringing fear, she felt an inner peace she’d never known before. And then a soft voice whispered from deep within her.
Everything will work for the best for both of you, together.

The thought brought some comfort. But they had a long way to go to become a “both of you, together.” For one, Beau wasn’t on board with the “both of you, together” part. But he would be. And she would be.

And, together, they would be—

A hard clearing of a throat jolted her out of her thoughts. “The prodigal daughter returns.”

Hannah froze.

With panic clawing at her throat, she pivoted around to stare at the man who had banished her from his home five years ago.

There was no mistaking this was her father. The harsh features and unyielding expression in his eyes were the same as always.

He still judged her.

After all these years.

Why, Lord? Why?

Numb from too many emotions surging through her blood, she blinked up at him.

He looked older. Thinner. More haggard.

And so very, very sad. She’d never noticed that sadness before. It made him seem more approachable. Yet all the more distant.

“Hello, Father.”

He didn’t acknowledge her greeting, merely cast his gaze around the platform. “Where is your sister?”

“She—”

“What’s happened? What have you done to her? What—”

“Reverend Southerland?” Beau cut him off in midsentence.

Hannah didn’t know where Beau had come from. Or when he had joined them. She hadn’t realized he could move so quickly and without any sound.

Then again, she couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of her pulse rushing in her ears.

“Reverend O’Toole.” Her father’s gaze collided with Beau’s and his eyes sharpened to thin slits. “What, may I ask, are you doing here?”

“I am escorting your daughter, sir.”

Beau held the other man’s gaze, but he didn’t explain any further.

Why not?
Hannah wondered.

Her father’s chin rose a mere fraction of an inch, but it was enough to indicate his genuine displeasure. His brow scrunched into a disapproving frown. Hannah was
familiar with the look. She’d been on the receiving end far too often.

“You traveled with Hannah?”

Beau nodded, but still he kept silent on the particulars.

“Alone?”

Beau lifted a shoulder.

In that moment, Hannah realized this was some sort of standoff between the two men, a masculine battle of wills she didn’t understand.

“You’re not helping matters,” she whispered to Beau. “Tell him the rest.”

Beau kept his gaze locked with her father’s.

“Beau, please.”

He didn’t budge. Not one single inch.

Nor did her father.

Hannah sniffed her impatience at them both.

Did they have to be such…men?

“Father,” she said. “Reverend O’Toole was good enough to accompany
both
Mavis and me on our journey.”

Her father’s quick eyebrow flick was the only measure of his surprise. “And who might this Mavis be?”

Hannah resisted the urge to tug on her collar and straighten her skirt. She ran her tongue across her teeth and pointed to Mavis, who chose that moment to adjust her chamois strap and shoot out a stream of spit between her front teeth.

Sensing inspection, she looked up and gave them her trademark gap-toothed grin. The gesture was pure Mavis Tierney, with a bit of an imp thrown in for good measure.

“Ah.” Reverend Southerland dismissed Mavis with a grunt and returned his attention to Beau. “I would have
expected you to be in Greeley by now, working with the committee on the plans for the new church building.”

Beau’s shoulders relaxed. With a hard blink, he wiped his features of all expression. “I was called to Denver on a personal matter, sir. A family friend was in need.”

“That’s where I met Reverend Southerland,” Hannah said. “In Denver.”

She wanted to say more, but she was jostled by someone walking by, reminding her they weren’t alone on the platform.

When she stumbled, Beau rushed to her aid. He steadied her with one hand on her back and the other on her arm.

Her father frowned at them both, but Beau didn’t release her until she found her balance.

“Where is your sister, Hannah?” His gaze traveled across the platform, then darted back to her. “What have you done with her?”

“That’s why we’re here,” she said. “To tell you of Rachel’s…fate.”

Shock and worry traced a hard line along his forehead. “Is she hurt? Ill?”

His concern was so familiar, so painfully genuine, that it broke Hannah’s heart. Her father had never,
never,
worried about her like that. “She is well.”

“I don’t understand.”

Hannah sighed. “I know. And that’s my fault. I—”

“So you haven’t changed.”

At the disappointment she heard in her father’s tone, her stomach knotted. She wanted to toss Rachel’s letters at him and run. But Hannah wasn’t that impetuous, angry little girl anymore. She was a
woman, a mature woman of independent means. God had brought her to this point in her life to end the lies of the past.

She would not cower now.

“No, Father, in that you’re wrong. I
have
changed.” She lifted her head and stared Thomas Southerland in the eyes. “In more ways than one.”

But whether the change was for good or evil was all a matter of perspective.

Beau could not stand the pain on Hannah’s face any longer. But he had to show respect to her father, for her sake. Starting an argument now would only hurt her more. He’d already made matters worse with that silent battle of wills of a few moments ago. Yet how could he show respect when all he wanted to do was slam his fist into the other man’s nose?

Didn’t Thomas Southerland see how much pain he was causing his daughter? It was one thing to threaten Beau with his future in Greeley. That was man-to-man. But what sort of parent had such little regard for his own child as to treat her so coldly and with such lack of affection?

“Reverend Southerland,” Beau said, clearing his throat of the resentment he heard in his own tone. “I think we should find another, less populated spot to speak further. I assure you, we will explain everything.” Beau didn’t add that the explanation would not be to the reverend’s satisfaction.

As though yanked out of a trance, Reverend Southerland shook his head and began moving toward Mavis and the baggage.

Mavis stood, winked and then offered her hand.
“I’m Mavis. And I say any father of Hannah’s is a friend of mine.”

He gave a noncommittal grunt and completely ignored her outstretched hand.

She sighed, rolled her eyes to heaven and stepped aside so he could lift the largest of the pieces of luggage off the top of the pile.

Beau followed his lead and began hoisting bags, as well.

They were a silent group as they left the train depot and loaded their belongings into the reverend’s smart carriage. It wasn’t until they were in the heart of town and stopping in front of a hotel that Beau realized the good reverend was not going to open his home to any of them.

As healing old wounds went, it was a vile start. For Hannah’s sake, Beau hoped this obvious slight was merely a temporary show of distrust on the reverend’s part and not the start of worse things to come.